


Blood Song

by okapi



Series: The Sniper Vanishes 'verse (Moran/Moriarty) [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, Dom Sebastian, Dom/sub Undertones, Kink Negotiation, Knifeplay, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Alternating, Sub Jim Moriarty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25139941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: On holiday in Switzerland, Seb gives Jim the blood-letting he wants.
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Series: The Sniper Vanishes 'verse (Moran/Moriarty) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718791
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30
Collections: Season of Kink, Sunshine Challenge





	Blood Song

**Author's Note:**

> For my 2020 DW Season of Kink Bingo B-1 square: bloodplay. Also for the DW 2020 Sunshine Challenge: Red.

“Sherlock.”

Anger flashed hot and hard in Jim Moriarty’s chest, and a torrent of vile abuse bubbled up in his throat.

One look at Seb’s face, however, and the anger was quickly followed by the asphyxiating grip of something slimy and unyielding, and that something kept Jim’s lips pressed tightly together and his words in his mouth like too many marbles.

To safeword out of a scene before it had even begun was, well, something. Jim didn’t know exactly what.

Seb’s expression was impassive, stoic, even. He turned his gaze to one of Jim’s wrists, and Jim knew that the next step would be to untie him.

The marbles of unspoken anger in Jim’s mouth froze to ice and slipped back from whence they’d come, settling cold and nauseating in his gut. He replayed the last few minutes in his mind.

He shouldn’t have criticised Seb’s choice of rope and his knots and the way he’d positioned them on the bed. He definitely shouldn’t have launched into a discourse on the instrument Seb ought to use.

No, Jim shouldn’t have done any of that. But he’d be damned if he would apologise!

Seb’s hands were rising, but to Jim’s surprise, Seb didn’t reach for the rope at Jim’s wrist.

“I could hit you,” said Seb matter-of-factly. He gave a slow imitation of the act, his knuckles connecting softly with Jim’s mouth. “I could split your lip and make you bleed while telling you to ‘shut up.’ I could do that.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “I could remind you who’s in charge, who you _asked_ to be in charge.”

Inside his pants, beneath the blanket that Seb had snugly round him like a Christmas tree skirt, Jim’s prick stirred. “Do it,” he urged. “Hit me.” He didn’t add ‘I deserve it.’ He didn’t have to.

Seb shook his head. “Your lip would swell and bleed and bruise and hurt, which would be fine for the duration of this.” He waved a hand at Jim’s tethered arms. “But we’ve got another week here.” Seb lifted his hand and made a circling gesture which was meant to indicate the whole of the secluded Swiss cabin. “And so, for the next few days, every time I kissed you…”

He bent and, without touching any other part of Jim, kissed Jim’s mouth, scraping two teeth on the edge of Jim’s upper lip. Jim kissed back, pressing up and into Seb’s mouth, trying to slip an apology from his tongue to Seb’s before Seb pulled away.

“…you’d feel it,” finished Seb.

“So? I don’t mind.” Jim didn’t say ‘because it’s you.’ He assuredly wouldn’t allow any other person on the planet to split his lip, then kiss it.

“But _I_ mind. I like kissing you. And I don’t want it to hurt. Later.”

“You think,” Jim swallowed the words ‘too bloody much,’ “a lot.”

“Occupational hazard, I suppose. You want a sniper who doesn’t?”

A heavy silence fell between them.

“One more try?” Jim sounded needy, but it worked.

* * *

Jim could’ve spit out the handkerchief Seb had shoved in his mouth, but he wasn’t going to. What Jim was certain that he _not_ could do was free himself from the bonds at his wrists. He tried and was suitably, and silently, impressed at his failure.

Seb was kneeling on the bed, straddling Jim but not putting his weight on him. The blanket and Jim’s pants had been removed.

It was as if Seb was studying Jim’s body by touch. He ran the fingertips of one hand over Jim’s skin in light exploratory caresses. And he didn’t spend much time on any one area. He rubbed Jim’s nipples a bit, fondled his cock and balls a bit, tickled his armpits and ribs for a bit. With his other hand, Seb held Jim’s face in place. It was a vise-like grip which forced Jim to look into Seb’s eyes most of the time. Every so often, Seb would look down at Jim’s body, but most of the time, he was staring at Jim’s face, holding Jim’s gaze.

You’re mine, the eyes said. And Jim almost believed them.

Almost.

“I get to do what I want to with you, and what I want to do is make you come,” said Seb. He extended his body backwards and lowered his mouth to Jim’s cock. He licked with his tongue extended. It was an obscene display, but Jim watched, and felt, as his prick responded.

It didn’t take long.

When Jim’s cock was fully erect, he grunted around the sodden bundle of cloth in his mouth.

At last, Seb swallowed Jim’s cock, then he pulled up, sucking hard and rolling his tongue around the shaft and cockhead. Seb repeated the move again and again, taking Jim deeper into his mouth with each bob.

It was nice. Jim’s only complaint was that Seb’s pace was slow to the point of languid.

Jim set his feet, which were not tied, flatly on the bed and bent his knees. Then he pushed his hips up, chasing Seb’s mouth, trying to establish a faster pace.

Seb met Jim’s demand and increased his speed of bobbing and sucking.

It was perfect now.

Jim pushing up, Seb thrusting down.

Jim felt the tension pool in his groin. His toes curled as if gripping the bedding for more purchase and he…

“Nope.”

….didn’t come.

Jim exhaled a high-pitched whine, but Seb was too busy grabbing Jim’s ankles and binding them to the footboard of the bed with that bloody rope and those fucking knots.

“You’re not coming ‘til I say so, you little bloodslut, and you’re certainly not coming before I do.”

Everything, Seb’s face, his tone, the way he stood by the bed, was different.

He was iron. Or stone. Or a volcano that had not yet erupted.

He was beautiful.

And Jim fell very weak and very hard at the same time.

He whimpered.

Seb grinned. “Finally.”

* * *

“You’re a bad boy, aren’t you?”

Jim shouldn’t be getting so excited at the sight of Seb carrying folded towels, but he was.

“I’m going to suck your prick over and over now. Bring you right to the edge and leave you there. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Understand?”

Jim pulled on the ropes at his ankles.

“See?” continued Seb. Now he was tucking the towels underneath Jim, two layers thick. “I’m going to make you suffer for every bratty comment you made about my rope and my knots and the lot. Watch.”

Jim closed his eyes. He felt Seb’s mouth on his cock, and he felt Seb’s hand underneath him, teasing his perineum until a slicked fingertip found his hole.

“Hey!”

Suddenly, Jim’s head was being pulled back by the hair. His eyes fluttered open.

“When I say ‘watch,’ I mean ‘watch.’

After that, Jim watched.

Then Seb’s finger buried was deep inside him, and Seb’s mouth was on him, sucking at that break-neck speed that Jim now regretted initiating.

Jim didn’t want to close his eyes, but he felt tears pool. He tried to blink them back.

“Yeah, that’s enough.”

Jim pulled hard at the ropes. He was so close!

But no. Seb was crawling off the bed.

Jim made a plaintive noise.

“I know. It’s time.”

Seb reappeared twirling the knife.

The knife Jim had given him.

Jim couldn’t take his eyes off it.

It was tumbling round and round in Seb’s fingers. Like an acrobat.

“Don’t you ever tell me what knife to use.”

Jim nodded and tried to swallow.

“Good. I get it, but I’m not going to put up with it. So, here we go, the main event. And for many reasons, I gotta hear you.”

Seb yanked the handkerchief from Jim’s mouth.

Jim’s first noise was an undignified caveman-like groan as he ran his tongue round the inside of his mouth.

“Watch.”

The order was unnecessary. There was nowhere else Jim was going to look but at the tip of Seb’s knife going into the flesh on the inner side of Jim’s wrist.

The pain was nothing. The blood, when it began to bead, then ooze, then run, was everything.

Jim’s mind went blank as the line grew longer and longer, finally stopping at his bicep.

“A Y incision,” said Seb casually. “Just like the mortuary?”

“Mmfgh,” answered Jim.

The red line had been drawn, had been cut, rather, down the centre of his inner arm.

Seb was slitting him open.

The blood was dripping onto the towels.

Jim started.

He reluctantly drew his gaze from the red to his cock, which was shielded by Seb’s head.

Seb was sucking Jim off.

And there was nothing Jim could do about it.

“Goddamn, Sebbie, but I love you.”

Jim wasn’t even certain they were words. He was hearing them as if spoken by someone else.

But, yes, there was nothing Jim could do.

But bleed. And watch. And love the man who was making him do it.

* * *

“You’re a bad boy. Look? Says it right there.”

Seb had used Jim’s bare chest as the canvas and Jim’s blood as the paint.

BAD BOY was written sideways, running up to Jim’s clavicle.

Jim bowed his head and made an eldritch noise.

Finally, Seb had been able to shut down that supercomputer brain of his. That, and the obvious hard-on Jim had got describing what he wanted, were the only reason Seb had agreed to this.

But, no, that wasn’t true. Seb _liked_ bossing the boss around once in a while.

“Are you a bad boy?” taunted Seb. He straddled Jim again, moving closer, wrapping one hand round their cocks and holding Jim’s chin with the other.

“The worst,” mumbled Jim. His body spasmed once, and Seb jumped away as if struck by electricity.

“Not yet.”

“Please, Sebbie!”

“No!”

Seb moved quickly. He wiped Jim’s chest with a wet flannel and dried it with an edge of towel.

Then he took up his knife again.

“Oh, God, Seb.”

“Symmetry is everything.”

Seb was careful. But swift.

He slit Jim’s other arm, wrist to bicep and used the blood to paint once more on Jim’s skin.

“That’s what I want you to remember. Whose you are,” Seb growled as if by the roughness of his voice he could chisel it on Jim’s brain.

MINE

“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine. Say it! Whose are you?”

Seb passed one slicked hand over Jim’s cock, removed the plug from his own arse, and impaled himself, heedless of the searing burn.

“YOURS!” screamed Jim, thrashing against his bonds.

Only when Jim’s body went limp did Seb take a hand to his own cock and stroke himself to release, adding his streaks of come to the smeared, drying MINE.

While still joined, Seb reached for his mobile and took a photo of the mess. The boss appreciated visuals.

Then Seb went to work.

He pulled off. He reached for the knife and cut Jim’s bonds. He found the first aid kit and cleaned and bandaged the cuts on Jim’s arms. He also tended the abrasions from the ropes.

All the while he was doing this, he hummed a song.

“Not _Danny Boy_ , you fucker,” mumbled Jim.

Seb smiled and switched to whistling _It’s a Long Way to Tipperary_.

Seb got Jim in the bath. “You gonna drowned yourself?”

Jim gave him a weak two-fingered salute.

Seb changed the linen on the bed and but the towels in a plastic-lined bin. Then he got Jim out of the bath and tucked him in bed and went to see about washing himself.

Seb sang _When Irish Eyes are Smilin’_ in shower to the protesting groans and obscenities of Jim. Then Seb slid, clean and bare, between the sheets beside Jim.

“I love you, too,” Seb whispered.

Jim’s eyes still had some of their glassy look, but the thick fog had lifted. “You,” was all he said.

“Yeah?” responded Seb.

“Yeah. Kiss me, tiger.”

And Seb did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
